Note: My son Colin’s ongoing medical/mental/emotional/spiritual struggle again tends to preoccupy me. Join caring bridge if you wish to receive daily updates, one of which I just did, with the title: “Yesterday was my worst day in the last two weeks.”
Colin’s journey plumbs the depths of us all.
Now, for the superficial . . .
What is my “identity”? Am I a “white woman”? An “old woman”? A mother?” A “Phd”? An “astrologer?” A “recovering Catholic?” A “permaculturist”? A “community builder”? A “writer”? On and on. None of these labels fit. Nothing fits this or any squirming human whose soul cries out for full expression, mediated, while embodied on this earth, through roles, identities, ways others “see” me; ways they think I get “validation.”
Huh? Nope. Forget it.
I am a sovereign soul, at one with all.
When we “identify” with the body, or the learned personality in any way, we are liable to get suckered into terminally divisive identity politics, especially these days, when idiotic superficiality rules.
